


Just Another Wednesday Night

by RipUpTheEnding



Series: This is longing [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5606605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipUpTheEnding/pseuds/RipUpTheEnding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dean, sad, alone, thinking of Cas.”<br/>So he takes matters into his own hands...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Wednesday Night

Dean’s been drinking (or else he couldn’t bring himself to do this) so he pulls up a picture of Cas on his phone. It’s like a knife in the chest, that deep ache where Cas belongs. But he can’t help the shiver that runs through his body or the way it plumps up his cock. Can’t help when he palms himself through his jeans.

Gasping, he sucks in a breath that whistles over his teeth. He hadn’t realized how sensitive he is, how ready to come from such a small, soft touch. But he knows he shouldn’t be surprised. Not really. Because it’s Cas. _Cas._ And Cas has always had this effect on him; always been able to pull out all these little thoughts and feelings that scare the shit out of him but also make him feel more alive than ever in his life.

And maybe it’s this or the alcohol or just the pure base need for release that drives him on. Right now, Dean doesn’t care. All that matters is the throbbing in his cock and the ache in his chest and how solving the first problem will solve the second. Not forever. Probably not ever for the night. But if the orgasm is good enough Dean will be able to ignore his need for Cas just long enough to fall into a fitful sleep.

He laughs wearily as he finally takes himself in hand. Just another Wednesday night.

He’s got his jeans pushed down past his ass, fist pumping slowly while he thumbs the head of his cock. With his other hand he scrolls through his pictures of Cas. He doesn’t have many, just a few taken here or there when the mood struck him. There’s a couple of Cas in the bunker: reading books in the war room or exploring boxes of artifacts. There’s another of him drinking coffee in the kitchen and yet another where he’s fixing the blue tie he started wearing again. But Dean’s favorite is the final one; the one he took the last time he saw Cas before he disappeared.

 _Before he left,_ Dean corrects himself, giving his cock a particularly rough tug. _Before he left **me.** Again. _

Dean’s jaw clenches and his throat bobs. He forces away the fresh wave of pain, forces it down, down, down until it’s just a dull throb. Until he can look back at his phone without the fear of—of— _feelings_ getting loose and running down his face.

Sniffing, he sets his shoulders and unlocks his phone, pulling up the most recent picture. It’s a candid shot, just like the rest. Cas’s hair is messy and his coat is rumpled from the long drive. He’s leaning against Baby like she’s the only thing holding him up, and he’s looking at his phone with that tilted head expression that always makes Dean feel all warm inside. It’s not a particularly sexy picture, not in it’s own right anyway. But Dean loves it; loves it because it’s pure and total Cas.

And maybe, just maybe, Dean thinks, (but only when he’s well on his way to drunk like he is now, aching in every way possible and getting off to hidden picture of his best friend) he loves it because he _loves Cas._

Loves Cas like he shouldn’t. Like he has no right to do.

The pictures and his feelings; they’re his guilty pleasure and his secret shame.

Dean doesn’t have a right to either of them.

Doesn’t have a right to even look at Cas let alone love him. And he certainly doesn’t have a right to get off to him.

He bites his lip to stave off the shame. Bites until it stings and burns and he tastes blood but it doesn’t do any good. It’s too late. He’s fucking his fist now, breathe ragged as his chases after that high. Chases the only feeling powerful enough to numb the ache inside of him.

The phone screen goes dark and Dean unlocks it again with shaking fingers. He’s close. So close that it hurts. His heavy balls pull up close to his body and he lifts his hips, fucking into his own fist harder and faster with each second; eyes locked on the screen, never leaving Cas. Dean continues to thrust, once, twice. He tightens his hold and at the next pump of his hips, he twists his wrist. That’s all it takes and Dean is coming; shooting off thick white ropes of come to a cry of Cas’s name. The warm liquid covers his chest and his belly. It runs over his hand and down his shaft; pools in the crease of his thigh.

And Dean works himself through it. Keeps pulling and tugging at his softening cock. Holds on tight, rubs, until it burns and stings and his come is cold, because he knows that as soon as he lets go it’s over. The high will leave him, just as Cas always does, and a pain so deep it’s physical will be left in its wake.

Eventually Dean can’t take it anymore. He collapses back on his bed, panting, and his cock slips from his hand. It’s not long before he’s back to where he started. Before he remembers he’s alone again. That he’s always been alone and always will be. That this is his normal. That he should just accept it.

 _Yeah,_ he chuckles darkly, grabbing a wad of tissues to clean himself up. _Just another Wednesday night._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think :)
> 
> If you're interested in any of my writing, original or fanfic, you can find out more here: [LivMasters.com/Me](http://livmasters.com/me/)
> 
> If you want to chat, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/RipUpTheEnding) where I spend my free time obsessing over all the things I love.
> 
> Come say hi and join the madness <3
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://ripuptheending.com/).


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